


On Soulless Feet

by FarmlandTensions



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Day of the Dead, Grim Fandango AU, Grim Reapers, Levi's POV, M/M, Tagged with Major Character Death because they're all dead to begin with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarmlandTensions/pseuds/FarmlandTensions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi is a grim reaper, paying off the debt from his former life in the afterlife by selling travel packages to the newly dead. He's the kind of guy who puts his head down and gets shit done, albeit with a sarcastic remark or two, in the hopes of getting out of his dead-end job as soon as he can. Until one day he snaps, and his actions lead him on a path that puts the saintly Eren Jaeger in a whole load of trouble that Levi needs to risk everything to get him out of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Grim Fandango, so if you haven't played the game, I'd recommend it (because it's awesome).
> 
> The title comes from the poem included in the game that contains the only mention of the words "Grim Fandango" partly because I'm uninventive, but also because I really like the poem.

I was a terrible person, when I was alive. Absolutely rotten. The worst fucking kind of person there is. You wouldn't let your kids near me. You'd see me coming and lock up your homes and hide the silverware. I was a really shitty person who did really shitty things.

 

What did I do, you ask?

 

...

 

To be honest, I haven't a fucking clue.

 

I don't remember my life, and I have no idea what the fuck I did to end up where I am now. I just know I must have been an absolute piece of shit in my life to have wound up working community fucking service in the afterlife. What kind of lowlife crap can't even get a good enough deal in their death to get past the first town you come to? The absolute scum of the earth, that’s who.

 

Your passage through the underworld to the ninth gate is supposed to take you between four minutes and four years - depending on how saintly you were in your life. 

 

How long have I been here?

 

Six years.

 

Six fucking years working my ass off in the DOD, trying to pay off a debt that I don't even remember. Heaven, right?

 

To make matters worse, my clientèle these days have been nothing but a bunch of fucking scumbags. Pieces of shit that don't qualify for so much as a map. I don't know how I'm ever expected to pay off this debt if it's based on shitty commissions from dead end losers who are worth less than the scum on my shoe. I have to act like it's the bargain of a fucking lifetime to get to spend four years walking to the ninth gate, and even the most dimwitted of these idiots can see right through that shit.

 

And that's not even the most humiliating part. No. We're still stuck in the last fucking century here at the Department of the Dead. You go out into the Land of the Living to pick up new souls and you've got to look the part of an archaic grim reaper, and unfortunately you can't meet the image when you're 5'3". So they got me stilts. That's right, you heard me, my boss doesn't let me collect souls without putting on a pair of fucking ten-inch stilts. Does anyone else have this problem? No, because Erwin fucking Smith, the absolute dick who used to be my partner but actually somehow gets all the fucking good sales  and my old office is 6'2". 

 

Fucking bastard. Unlike me, he fucking knows whatever despicable piece of shit he committed in his life to get him landed in this hellhole. But he wont fucking talk. He thinks I’m lying about not knowing shit and there’s no chance in hell the fucker’s going to own up to anything if I don’t do it first. I’d tell him, if I knew.

 

At the rate he's going, he'll be out of here pretty soon anyway. He’ll be replaced by some other pathetic lowlife shit who screwed up so bad in his life that he's stuck being a shitty sales agent like me.

 

You think being stuck in a dead-end job is bad when you're alive, just fucking try being faced with it for all eternity after you've died. It's not a great prospect. And you get to see every fucking loser who crosses over, every absolute piece of crap that you wouldn't give the time of day to if you weren't forced to by your job. And you have to sit there and know that even the worst piece of rotting garbage who would make your skin crawl if you still had any  is still a better person than you are . These fuckers who don't even qualify for a walking stick didn't mess up enough in their first shot at life to end up in your position.

 

I look at these guys and I see slime. I see disgusting filth. And I sit here and I know that even though I can't remember it, whatever I did was ten times worse than any of the petty crimes that come up on my screen as I look through their records to find out what shitty deal I can pretend it's an honour for them to qualify for. And I know I deserve every second of this fucking punishment if I could ever have possibly been any lower than these shits.

 

Or at least, this  was how I thought. This  was how my death was going. And then I fucked up. I can’t even begin to describe the level to which I fucked up. It’s no fucking wonder I was stuck at the DOD for so long if I was this much of a shit in the Land of the Living. But if I had the chance to take back my actions now, there’s no way I would.

  
And that's what this story is about. 


	2. Rebellion

It started the way all important things began. Things were mundane and routine and then one day something changed. 

 

I guess you could call it a butterfly effect. One minute difference in a pattern that had being going for years and suddenly the whole world falls apart at the seams. 

 

I like to think of myself as a pretty patient guy, even if I do regard most of the people I'm forced to interact with as imbeciles. But even I have my limits. And after six years of working my ass off for no reward, I guess it was only a matter of time before I snapped. I just got sick and tired of fucking Erwin fucking Smith getting all the decent clients, and I had begun to suspect it was no accident. So I stole one.

 

It happened right after a particularly bad client, or at least that's where the idea sparked. And when I say a particularly bad client, I mean this guy didn't even get to walk to the ninth gate, he got packaged up and posted off and was going to spend four years in a fucking coffin. But he was still better off than me. And I knew. I knew there was no way I was ever going to work off any kind of debt if this was the kind of shit I was stuck with.I always knew in the back of my mind, but at that moment it hit me like a fucking freight train. And so after years of sitting and taking my punishment I snapped. 

 

I snapped quietly. I'm not the kind of guy who goes into a rage. I didn't shout at anyone. I didn't explode. I didn’t lash out. No-one was harmed, nothing damaged. Hell, I'd say my expression didn't falter once. But something in my mind just clicked. I'd had enough, and I was finally going to do something about it. And that required planning.

 

 

* * *

 

Now, I’ve already said I’m a patient guy. And I needed that patience to succeed with what I wanted to do. But fuck if that week didn’t feel like the longest week of my entire existence.

 

I kept tabs on every case that came in, waiting for the perfect one. I looked through every file that passed through the mail room, skimming for the most part and only reading in depth when there were no crimes or major sins listed. I kept my eye on every single piece of information with Erwin’s name on it, just waiting to step in and make my move.

 

Of course, it’d be too suspicious if the file never made it to Erwin’s desk. So I needed to be sure I had a way to beat him to it once the time came. And that was going to be some task considering the head honcho had given him the fastest car and the most reliable driver. I don’t know if my own driver was in on this whole conspiracy to keep me in community service until my bones rotted or if he just plain hated me. But at that point I was sure  everyone  I interacted with on a regular basis was in on this plan to stop me from ever getting out of the place.

 

So I got myself a new driver. 

 

I may be an asshole, but I can be fucking charming when I really want to be. Or, at least I can be pretty manipulative. And I charmed the pants off the fucking demon mechanic in the company. I don’t think the management even see demons as people, so I didn’t really have to worry about her being in on whatever shitty plan they had for me. Not to mention she was annoying as fuck and I doubt anyone could have a full conversation with her.

 

I say that, but in all honesty that fucking shithead was soon to become the closest friend I had in this world. Not that I ever told her that, but I don’t doubt she knows.

 

To be honest, I don’t think I’d ever given Hanji a second glance before that day. Sure, I knew someone had to look after the cars, and I’d probably seen her down there once or twice, but I’d never put much thought into it. And I definitely didn’t expect her to be so… enthusiastic.

 

Enthusiastic about cars mainly. But really enthusiastic about everything. I’d never really looked into what it means to be a demon before, but apparently each demon is brought forward from the depths of hell for one purpose. You might suspect they’re all nasty shit that no-one wants to even think about, but in reality there are even demons whose sole purpose and goal is to plant flowers for eternity. Fucking weird if you ask me.

 

If I was asked what Hanji’s one purpose was back then, I’d probably guess it was to fix cars. Because that’s what she fucking did. Who the fuck employs a fucking demon and doesn’t give them a job that they’re destined to do? Like they have one thing they’re ultimately perfect at, and you give them a job doing something else? Sums up the fucking DOD right there.

 

Anyway, I approached her looking to know who the best fucking driver was, still trying to figure out how I’d manage to bribe them to work for me and not Smith. And it turns out, all this time, the DOD have stuck the job of fixing cars on a fucking demon specifically designed to drive fast. Like what the fuck.

 

I asked her to be my driver, promised it’d be just this one time while my own driver was unavailable (a likely fucking story) and I wouldn’t tell the management if she wouldn’t. I think she almost cried with happiness. And don’t even get me started on how much my bones ached after that fucking hug. You’ve heard of “bone crushing hugs”? Yeah, they’re real. Don’t hug a fucking demon, okay?

 

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long after that that I hit the proverbial jackpot.

 

The best damn newly dead I’d seen in my tenure at the DOD. Estimated time of death, two hours from then. His dad was a doctor, and one who hadn’t managed to secure a good deal here at the DOD, so he had plenty of inheritance to spend on a good package in the Land of the Dead. And his record was so spotless you could practically see your reflection in it. No crimes, no sins. Nothing but gold stars for caring too much about everyone but himself. He was dying of an illness he’d contracted from some child he’d been making balloon animals for in intensive care the week before.

 

If it weren’t for the fact that I didn’t know who or what had had their filthy hands on the file, I could have kissed it.

 

I made my way down to Hanji immediately. She’d had me run a permission slip by Dawk the day before asking to “improve” my vehicle because it was supbar in terms of speed and overall performance (His secretary, Mikasa, had signed in his stead because he wasn’t around, and judging by the likeness to the signature on every memo he sent out, I’d wager she signed for him more often than he signed for himself), so I knew she had done some work on the car, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

 

She really went overboard with the whole thing. Though I guess, if I was on my way to do something completely fucking illegal I might as well do it in some kind of terrifyingly demonic style. The previously modest company car now resembled something closer to a monster truck, with red and yellow flames painted down the sides and front section modified to fit a demon driver, as well as wheels at least twice the size they had been the last time I saw it. 

 

If there was a look of horror on my face, there was no way Hanji saw it. She just excitedly asked if it was time.

 

“Yeah, just about,” I tore my eyes away from the monstrosity in front of me to look at the mess of a demon standing next to it, “I was just coming down to tell you to get ready. I need to grab my official uniform and then we can head off.”

 

She practically squealed in response, running off to make some last minute adjustments as I braced myself and took the elevator back up.

 

 

* * *

 

I had a little bit of a dilemma in my office. I didn’t have any collections scheduled for the day, and I couldn’t exactly walk out in my robe and fucking stilts without it being really fucking obvious. Eventually I settled for wrapping the stilts in my robe and tucking them under my arm, making some excuse to Mikasa as I passed her about needing to bring the robe to dry cleaning after an incident with my last client. Not that her impassive expression ever changed anyway. I don’t think she cared to be there any more than I did.

 

Once the elevator doors closed behind me I changed as quickly as I could, strapping the stilts to my feet and pulling the robe on over my suit. I quickly smoothed out any creases I’d caused with my shitty attempt at diversion, and pulled my scythe out of my inside pocket before stepping out of the elevator to see Hanji revving the engine on my newly reinvented company car.

 

She definitely wasn’t wrong when she said it would run faster. Erwin Smith never stood a chance at getting to that hospital before I did.

 

 

* * *

 

I always hated hospitals. There’s something eerie about a building full of people about to die, even if you’re working as a grim reaper. Not to mention, they’re full of living people too and the living fucking give me the creeps these days.

 

I made my way through the hallways as swiftly as I could and then stepped inside room 104 when I came to it, my scythe standing proudly at my side. I stood beside the bed and waited until I heard the long beep signalling the stopping of a heart, and felt the familiar aura of a fresh death, then I made my incision.

 

“Eren Jeager, I’m ready to take you.”

 

He stared up at me with bewilderment and confusion clear on his face.

 

“Is this a dream?”

  
“I’m afraid it’s no dream, kid. You’re dead. You’re going to have to come with me now.”


	3. The Client

I stepped into my office behind the boy, urged him to take a seat, and then slipped off my robe and kicked off my fucking stilts as subtly as I could before walking around to the other side of my desk.

 

I kept a smile plastered on my face as he looked at me confused.

 

“Weren’t you taller a minute ago?”

 

Charming little fucker, wasn’t he?

 

“No, it’s just the black. It’s very slimming.”

 

“You still look slim, you’re just short now too.”

 

I cleared my throat and turned to my computer. The faster I could get this over with the better. The kid may have been the best client I’d had in all my years at the DOD, but that didn’t mean I had to like the fucker. I just needed to get him the best damn package available and get us both out of there. So I got to work running his stats to see what I could offer him.

 

This kid was perfect. And I mean perfect. He was a fucking saint. He’d spent his life taking care of his sick mother, volunteering at homeless shelters and entertaining fucking sick kids. He was ten thousand times better than any other person who had ever sat in this office. The picture of innocence and helpfulness, sitting contentedly in the chair in front of desk... And I had nothing. Absolutely nothing came up for me to offer him. And I'm an idiot, I'm a fucking headcase for not realising right then and there that I'd been screwed over, that these dicks who'd been controlling my life for years had been keeping me right where they wanted by making sure my computer only gave me shitty offers. But instead I got angry, and I knew my eye would be twitching if I still had muscles there to twitch, as I assured him as calmly as I could that I was having some minor difficulties with my computer.

 

The kid should have qualified for a one-way ticket on the number nine. He should have been boarding the next train and been sent straight off to the ninth gate in minutes. He should have been my ticket out of that dump. And yet I had nothing. So I figured I'd been duped, that the little shit wasn't as bright and shiny as he appeared at first glance. Even though every bit of paperwork I’d seen on the kid had confirmed that he was perfection incarnate.

 

I interrogated the fuck out of the brat, and he just sat there and took it.

 

I asked him question after question, demanding to know if he'd murdered someone, if he'd stolen from children, conned people, sold his body, been involved in insurance fraud or identity theft or a burglary. And he was so fucking honest, and I could see it on his face. He never lied to me once. By the end he was offering to steal my stapler if it would help me out. The fucking idiot was sitting there, all bright and chipper and trying to see if he could help me and I just fucking knew it was a lost cause, there was no way this naive little idiot was foul enough to deserve any of the low class options I had available to sell.

 

“You’ve definitely never killed anyone?”

 

“Not a soul. I’d offer to kill someone now, but we’re all dead here, right?”

 

I eyed him suspiciously.

 

“And you are Eren Jeager, right? They didn’t fucking switch rooms or some shit did they?”

 

“The one and only.”

 

The kid was fucking beaming. I swear I’ve never seen teeth so fucking perfect. If I didn’t already know his life story I’d presume one of his parents was an orthodontist.

 

I sighed deeply and pressed my fingers to my forehead.

 

“This computer is a fucking piece of shit. It’s telling me you don’t even qualify for a fucking compass and with your record you should have a ticket for our best train sitting here waiting for you.”

 

He didn’t even seem bothered. How the fuck was he not bothered? I’d pretty much just screwed us both over.

 

“Walking’s not that bad. I’m pretty in shape. Or I was, before you took my muscles off me.”

 

What the fuck was wrong with this kid?

 

“You’ve got no idea what’s out there kid. Trust me, you want to take the train.”

 

I double checked my computer to make sure there was still nothing coming up, then asked him a few more questions as he offered to commit more crimes for me. There had to be some kind of mistake, and I just stared at him, fuming silently, wondering how the fuck I could manage to screw this up. And then the buzzer went off on my phone.

 

I sighed heavily and finally looked away from the kid before I moved to pick up the phone, flinching a little at my bosses tone as he demanded I get my ass to his office immediately. I placed the receiver down and took a breath before looking up at the boy in front of my and giving him another fake smile.

 

“That was my boss, I’m needed in his office urgently.”

 

“Oh. Okay. Well don’t wait around on my part.”

 

I scrutinised him for a moment.

 

“Just… I’ll be right back, alright? This shouldn’t take too long.”

 

He smiled encouragingly at me as I stood and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind me and letting out a breath I’d only half-realised i was holding. I glanced back through the window on the door at the boy looking around my office casually as if he hadn’t just died and been interrogated by the worst fucking grim reaper in history.

 

I never suspected for a second that it would be years before I saw his face again anywhere but my nightmares.

 

* * *

 

 

My boss was a sleazebag. Probably not the worst person in the world, but only because he lacked the intelligence to be. Sometimes I’d wonder how a fucking halfwit ended up in a better position than me in the company, but then I remembered he had that position because he’d been there twice as long as I had.

 

I’d hate to find out what he did for a living.

 

The guy had anger issues too. And they were frequently taken out on me, largely because I refused to put up with his fucking shit. I did what I was told, sure, but I was never one to not answer back when I knew my sarcasm would go right over someone’s head. It didn’t do me any favours.

 

Even still, I had never seen him this mad. There was practically steam coming out of his ears when I stepped into his office.

 

“Nile.”

 

“It’s Mr. Dawk to you, Levi. And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

 

I shrugged.

 

“You asked me to come here. If I’m not needed, I’ve got some business I should be attending to in my office.”

 

That got him to grit his teeth.

 

“Business you should be attending to? I think you mean business Erwin should be attending to.”

 

I glanced at Erwin. it was my first time acknowledging his presence in the room. He didn’t look pissed, he looked fucking pleased with himself. Like he’d just taken the fucking shit of the century. I bet he was delighted at the prospect of seeing Nile Dawk ripping into me like a starving vulture.

 

I shrugged again and brought my gaze back to Nile, expression neutral.

 

“We work in the same office. What difference does it make?”

 

“What difference does it make? It makes every fucking difference you piece of shit. That boy is the best client we’ve had around here in years, and we need to have our best agent on the case. And instead he’s been stuck with you. You couldn’t sell cheese to a rat, you fucking shit on a stick. You went snooping through files you had no clearance to view, illegally modified a company car, took it out without a licensed driver and fucking stoleErwin’s best client. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

 

I kept my voice level as I reponded to him.

 

“I guess I am.”

 

He clenched his jaw and inhaled sharply, then jabbed a bony finger in my direction.

 

“You are going to apologise to this kid. And you are going to make it sound like you mean it. And then Erwin is going to get him on the number nine and hope he forgets about what a fucking shit you’ve been.”

 

He picked up his phone and spoke into it while continuing to glare at me.

 

“Send in the kid,” he paused for a moment and his expression changed quickly into one that made me think his whole fucking skull was going to pop off his body, “HE’S WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S GONE? …. HE’S WALKING?! THAT FUCKING KID HAD A TICKET ON THE NUMBER NINE WITH HIS NAME ON IT AND HE’S FUCKING WALKING?!”

 

I tried to back out of the room but Nile’s gaze was on me again before I could open the door.

 

“Don’t fucking move you pathetic scum. You made our best fucking client think he had to walk to the ninth gate?”

 

I tensed.

 

“It must have been a misunderstanding, I’ll go get him back.”

 

He scoffed at that, fury still pouring out of him.

 

“Misunderstanding my ass. You’re not speaking to him ever again. Smith will go get him, you are being locked up until we can find somewhere fucking lower than the DOD to give you a job you really deserve.” He pressed a button on the phone, the receiver still in his hand. “Security, my office, now.”

  
This was not how the plan was meant to go down.


End file.
